


Home

by Vault_of_Glass



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Breathplay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kinktober 2017, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 03:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: Hancock and MacCready walk a lady home.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 20/21: Threesome

Warmth and music filter out from the Third Rail as River lingers in the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder with a coy, inviting smile. Her cheeks glow pink beneath the dull fluorescent lighting, rosy from wine and laughter. “You boys wouldn’t mind walking me home, would you?”

“I guess we could do that,” MacCready teases, low and smug, ducking his mouth to the tender skin above her collar.

Hancock flashes her a wicked smirk, tracks his thumb along her jaw and rasps dark curls of laughter when she nips her teeth at him. “C'mon, kitten.  Let’s get you home.”

* * *

Goodneighbor doesn’t feel like home, and neither does the state house, but the mayor does. Hancock’s hands fit her with all the ease of birds in flight, familiar, like songs she knows by heart, and when he dips her for a kiss, she trusts those hands to hold her.  

“Show-off,” she breathes, laughing high and sweet as he drops kisses down the column of her throat.

Hancock grins that wolfish smile, pleased as punch. MacCready sweeps her hair aside to find the zipper at her nape, baring the pale skin that rolls her spine in one smooth tug. Hancock’s hands slip past her dress and settle at her hips, steering her back toward the bed, and she follows their guidance, twisting to plant a swift kiss at the end of MacCready’s mouth.

“I like the dress,” Hancock praises, playing conversational even as his teeth sink at her shoulder, drawing whimpers up her throat. “Mac buy it for you?”

“I bought it for myself,” she clarifies in crystal tones, and his laughter hums like wings over her pulse point. “So you both better be gentle. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

“They really don’t…” He trails off, heavy with inflection, and his fingertips mark languid paths down her back, easing the dress gingerly around her hips. “I’ll be good.”

MacCready laughs, lips and teeth at the line of her neck. “No promises.” But he waits with twitching fingers for her dress to shape a puddle at their feet before he sprawls across the bed and drags her with him, grinning at the well of giggles that she sings.

River lands eager kisses across his jaw until their lips meet, and his hands cradle her face with all the reverence meant for precious things, like she’s made of gold and porcelain beneath the softness of her skin. She feels his tongue lap over her lip and whines under his mouth, curling her fingers into his shirt.

Rough palms chart the length of her spine, and she arches back into the touch, lip bitten pink between her teeth. Hancock maps his hands across her ass, and when he swats her with the mottled flat of his palm, a moan melts like molasses in her mouth.

“Christ, I missed that sound,” he sighs, soothing his touch over the mark that’s surely forming in red prints across her skin. His fingers dance around the tender ache, and he murmurs in approval when her hips sway after his hand. “You stay right there, kitten. I got ya.”

MacCready wrestles his shirt up over his head and tosses it thoughtlessly aside, claiming her lips in deepening kisses as Hancock stretches out between her thighs, tugging her knees down around his shoulders. Her fingers falter at MacCready’s belt, distracted, focus scattered by the first swell of Hancock's breath.

“Oh, shit,” she gasps, shuddering as he teases lazy passes with his lips, hinting at the pull of suction, there and gone again. After a few more fumbling tries, she frees MacCready of his belt, and he groans when his cock fills her hands, thick and heavy in her palm. Some starving part of her imagines crawling up and driving herself down onto his cock, and then Hancock’s tongue wends skillfully around her clit, and pleasure spirals through her from the heat of his mouth, sharp-edged and scalding.

MacCready watches her features shift in relief, dragging her lips back to his, and the press of her teeth has his cock twitching in her hands. Her voice teeters through reedy moans as Hancock rounds his mouth and rolls the flat of his tongue in cinder shapes that burn and spread with wildfire force. MacCready’s hand wraps firm around her neck, grounding in the rush of star-bright pleasure searing through her nerves, and her eyelids flutter low over bright amber.  

“ _Te amo_ ,” she murmurs, gentle as half-stolen breath, and the smirk on his face softens into an easy smile.

His thumb draws slowly up her throat, pressing in at the tender hollow beneath her jaw. “Always.” Her breath strains to his grip, and her pulse beats out a frantic rhythm in her ears like crashing waves. Hancock hums between her legs and doubles down when her hips start to shake, sweeping his tongue in broad, determined circles. Between his arms locking her thighs in place and the rifle-calloused hand around her throat, every part of her coils tight and tense and heavy, craving, aching around nothing.

At the desperate tremor that breaks her voice, MacCready’s mouth coasts into an easy grin. “You’re gonna come already.”

“ _Y-es_.” Every atom of her being sings in chorus  _yes_ , an empty chasm yawning open where her words all wane and ebb away and only  _yes_  remains,  _yes_  when MacCready welts his teeth down her shoulder,  _yes_  in stuttered breaths when Hancock drags her tight against his mouth and spears that wicked tongue up through slick folds to the bud of her clit, searing white-hot silhouettes that feel like  _yes, yes, yes_ , and when she plummets off into that endless void, she wails a final, hissing sibilant and shivers through the fall.

The tremors pale and sweeten into aftershocks that echo with her heartbeat, leaving River limp and breathless across the sheets. Hancock scatters kisses over the curve of her hip, and with MacCready kneading soothing fingers at the muscles in her neck, the strength slowly recovers in her limbs.

Four hands reach out to steady her when she lifts onto shaky knees, and she breathes a husky laugh, squeezing reassuringly at their fingers. MacCready swipes his thumb feather-light along her cheekbone, and Hancock sucks another mark into her shoulder, rumbling in approval at the needy sound she voices. “Still with us, princess?”

River beams back at him, swinging her hips in invitation. “Oh, yes.”

With a raspy chuckle, Hancock slips his knee between her legs, nudging her thighs apart, coaxing shivers when his mouth finds the base of her neck. “Good.” His palm hunts up her stomach, roughened fingertips teasing over her nipples, and she whimpers at the lash of pleasure over raw nerves, abrasive in the wake of coming. He feels her tense and eases his touch, murmuring soothingly under his breath.

MacCready watches them from under heavy lids, and River meets his gaze as she kisses his fingers, his knuckles, his palm. Lean muscle twitches beneath her lips when she tracks kisses down his chest, over faded scars, along the tawny hair that trails the base of his stomach. He gathers her hair in his fist, and his gaze never strays from her mouth at the head of his cock, kitten licks that make his hips jerk before he can stop them. She curls her fingers in a sturdy grip and sinks her lips down around him, leading his cock slowly past her tongue, dragging firm along the length of him. Sparing a glance up through her lashes, she savors the desire etched across his features, like suffering and solace all at once.

Hancock steadies a hand at the base of her spine while the other climbs lazily up her thighs, his fingers driving deliberately over silky folds. Two long, rough fingers sweep along slick want and slowly dip in, and her hips push back to take him deeper, strangled moans rising in her throat. He ducks his head against her shoulder, pressing his lips to her flushed skin. “Love all your pretty sounds,” he breathes, and clamps his teeth at her neck. “Ya ready for me, kitten?” His hand sets a languid rhythm, sweet pressure every time he crooks his fingers. “Fuck, you feel ready.”

River lifts away and drags a steadying breath into her lungs. “Please,” she begs, flashing avid amber eyes over her shoulder. “I need you, John.”

“You’ll get me, sweetheart, don’t worry.” He presses loving fingertips to the edge of her mouth, a tender, quiet touch. She kisses his fingers, and then his hips are sliding into place behind her, and she feels him drag his cock up the sensitive folds of her sex, parting and pushing in and filling her in one easy thrust. Her body arches, stunned and reeling at the stretch, a rush of pressure laving over every tension like white noise.

For a few frantic, breathless moments, River can only cling to MacCready with shaking hands, biting moans into his shoulder as Hancock snaps his hips in long, measured strokes. Before long, she’s rocking back to meet each swing, still crooning wounded noises when her lips track a vein up the length of MacCready’s cock, parting to take him into her mouth once more. She works her tongue against hard heat, sweeping flat over the slit at the head of his cock, sucking hard when she takes him deeper.

“Fuck, beautiful.” MacCready falls back onto his elbows, and every muscle in his chest flexes with strain beneath his skin, throat working around empty air. He drinks in the sight of her mouth around his cock, and the sound of every little moan as Hancock fucks her, so blessedly hard between her lips, and she  _adores_ him like this, wrecked and tense and wanting, watching her with that rapt sniper’s focus as it frays and frays and falls apart.

Hancock laves messy kisses down the arch of her back, and she feels his hand circle her hip, drifting toward her thighs. The first ghost of his fingertips across her clit wracks a shiver through her body, and he tempers his touch, barely there between deep grinding pumps of his hips, counterpoints of blinding heat against the pressure building dull and heavy from his cock. Hancock knows her, knows her body, knows from the wild tremors in her hips that he has her close. “Be a good girl and come for me again,” he pants at the nape of her neck, and the rough hunger in his voice very nearly sends her over.

Her hands and mouth are clumsy around MacCready’s cock as Hancock works her closer and closer to coming. Her fist slicks tight around the base of him, mouth pulling gentle suction, and MacCready bucks his hips. She feels his hand clench in her hair, and hears his ragged groan as his cock twitches and spills across her tongue. His body tenses into a tight line, and she swallows down the last of him. Eventually he shivers and chokes out a weak, wounded sound, raw and oversensitive, and she releases him with a breathless smile.

MacCready smiles back, his chest heaving for breath as he loops a hand at her throat and kisses her, nipping teeth into her lip, little pains and pleasures in the overwhelming wash of bliss twisting deeper with every rough thrust of Hancock’s hips. The pressure winds like coiled springs, tighter, tensing, cords of heat lashing through her. Hancock pins her with a hand between her shoulders and fucks swift, ceaseless strokes. River’s lips tremble against MacCready’s throat with senseless echoes of his name, of Hancock’s,  _yes_  and  _more_ and  _please_ ,  _oh please, please fuck I’m gonna come-!_

A scream tears the breath from her lungs when she unravels, shattering apart into the endless black behind her eyes, and she can only vaguely hear her own voice sobbing broken through the rush. She comes back down to feel MacCready soothing his lips over the bites that mark her throat, his arm cradled gentle around her waist. Her muscles throb with fading shocks of wire-sharp pleasure as she crawls back over to Hancock. Heat flushes in blooms of pink across her cheeks when she parts her lips for him, and he guides his cock slowly, deliberately over her tongue. He inches past her throat, and she blinks at tears that well along her lashes, letting him set an easy pace. He breathes her name in gravel whispers, fingers tensing in her hair, and she hums in contentment when he stiffens and gasps and comes between her lips. He rests his fingers over her neck, feeling her throat bob when she swallows, eyes dark and satisfied.

“Fuck  _me_ , good  _girl_ ,” he groans, and River glows with pride, lapping softly at the base of his cock until he pulls away with a shudder. He dips his head to kiss her, tongue chasing the salt and bitter that linger on her lips. Her laughter rings when he sweeps her into his arms and nestles her in the middle of the bed. MacCready tugs her against his chest, and Hancock collapses on her other side with a heavy breath that leaves him like a gust of wind. He props up on an elbow and peppers kisses down the red-blue bruises from his teeth. MacCready runs his fingers through the silk of her hair, and tucked between their body heat and heartbeats, River feels like she’s found home.


End file.
